


More Like Your Brother

by whitchry9



Series: The Lost Son of Krypton and The Found Son of Hell's Kitchen [4]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Daredevil (TV), Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: AU, Blind Character, Brothers, First Meetings, Gen, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: On his mother's insistence, Matt tells Foggy about being Daredevil. And then Foggy gets caught up on the whole Superman thing and Clark has to get involved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after 'the house that love built' and continues from there.

Matt wouldn't know he was there at all if it wasn't for his heartbeat. He'd know that heartbeat anywhere.

“What?” he sighs.

Clark doesn't say anything, just hovers down the stairs to the living room, where Matt is sitting on the couch trying to figure out if the cut on his shoulder needs stitches.

“Ma called. She wants to see us. Well, you, really.”

Matt groans. “Why?”

Clark scoffs. “Because she's not an idiot and she has access to the news. If you were going to be a superhero you should have gone with a better costume.”

“Sure, because taking off a pair of glasses and calling it good really does anything,” Matt gripes.

“Like you'd know,” Clark retorts. He's quiet for a second. “That probably needs stitches.”

“Which means it _possibly_ doesn't.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you here?”

“Because she called me. She called me and told me to bring you home. So I'm here, doing that.”

“You're a grown man Clark, you don't always have to do what your mother tells you.”

“Oh, so you want to be the one to call her?”

“No,” Matt admits. “Grab the first aid kit and I'll finish up here. You'd better have me home in time for work tomorrow.”

Clark scoffs, handing the first aid kit to Matt. “That's the least of your worries.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Martha Kent is definitely looking at him with a disapproving look, Matt can feel it.

She's also not saying anything. Matt has been standing here for what has to be an hour now, and she's just been staring at him and not saying anything.

He shifts uncomfortably and immediately regrets showing any sign of weakness.

“Are you tired? Maybe from living a double life?” she suggests.

Matt groans. “Ma, do we really have to do this right now?”

“And when would you suggest we do it Matthew?” she asks. “Thanksgiving? Christmas? Lent?”

Matthew, he's in trouble. She only called him Matthew in the first week after they took him in, before he worked up the courage to tell them he preferred Matt. And of course, when he was in trouble.

“Clark has a secret identity,” Matt points out.

“We're not talking about Clark right now. And believe me, when I found out Clark was being a dumb hero, he had a talking to as well.”

“Not with me in the room,” Matt points out, painfully aware that Clark is listening in to the whole thing from the kitchen.

“Clark, go for a fly,” Martha orders.

Papers scatter as Clark leaves.

“Vigilante, not a hero,” Matt mutters.

“Semantics. We're not in a court room, those won't work on me. Now, come to the kitchen and I'll put the kettle on.”

Matt huffs, but does as he's told. He sits at the table, running his fingers over the worn grooves in the wood. He could recreate them from memory.

Martha prepares two cups before sitting down with him.

“When were you going to tell me?” she asks, gentler now.

“I don't know. I didn't think it was going to be a thing. I just thought the first time would be the only time, and when it wasn't, I assumed each time was going to be the last.”

She hums. “How many times has it been the last time now?”

“I've lost count,” he admits.

“So it's probably safe to say that none of the times soon will be the last time. Am I right?” she asks.

“Probably,” Matt sighs.

“So you're going to need a better costume,” she asserts.

Matt's head snaps up. “What?”

“I mean, that one has to offer no protection, what is it, cotton? Polyester? A blend?” She sounds disgusted at the thought. “Not to mention there are no eyes. Are you really asking for people to figure out your identity? No, what you need is a full makeover, name, appearance, all of it.”

Matt's lost. “You're not going to tell me to stop?”

“Matthew,” she says gently. “I have raised two boys. Both of those boys have grown up to be superheroes. I couldn't dissuade the first one, so what makes you think I'll be able to dissuade you? You're both grown men, capable of making your own decisions, as ridiculous as they may be, and as your mother, it's my responsibility to make sure you can keep on making ridiculous decisions for many years to come. That's why you need a new suit. One well placed blade and you'd be finished. Now, I'm not sure if anyone actually makes the sort of thing you'll need, or if I'll have to get the material and do it myself. Of course, who knows if a sewing machine will be able to puncture it if it's supposed to be bullet resistant,” she muses.

Matt swears he's hallucinating. “So you're... okay with this?”

“Of course I'm not okay with this. Both of my babies are out in the world, throwing themselves in danger. I hate it.”

“I was never your baby,” Matt points out. “I was ten.”

“Shush.”

Matt holds his hands up.

“I hate it, but I'm also so very proud of who you've both become. So even though it kills me, I'm going to support you the best I can.”

Matt thinks he's finally getting it figured out. “Support?” he repeats.

“Yes,” Martha sighs, the kettle whistling behind her. “You're a bright boy Matthew, please try to get your head wrapped around it. Plus, what kind of mother would I be if I let Clark be a superhero and not you?”

“Well, he is bulletproof,” Matt points out, taking the cup he's offered. It's cocoa, which is ridiculous and yet welcome. “And not blind.”

Martha scoffs. “Like being blind ever stopped you from doing anything.”

“Probably just from getting my license.”

She smiles. “Just that,” she agrees.

All the papers fly everywhere again as Clark stops back in the kitchen.

“Ah!” he says. “I thought I sensed cocoa.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt tells Foggy that he's Daredevil over a beer in his apartment not long after the explosions. Foggy is still healing, and Matt hopes he doesn't hate him forever, and that he at least gets a chance to explain.

 

Foggy's posture grows stiffer throughout Matt's explanations, but he does get to the end, including the part where he wasn't responsible for the explosions, only received the blame for them.

 

There are a lot of things Matt is expecting, but the one Foggy goes for is one he hadn't expected.

“If you're Daredevil, why do you hang out with Superman so much?”

Really, that's what Foggy wanted to know?

“Clark, my brother-” Matt starts.

“No way!” Foggy yells.

“Yeah,” Matt sighs.

Foggy is quiet for a moment, thinking probably.

Matt waits.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Foggy says slowly. “Your brother is Superman and you are Daredevil.”

“Yes?” Matt says.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Foggy wails. “You know how much of a man crush I have on Superman. And he's your brother, so it's weird now.”

It takes Matt a second to catch up. “You're... mad I didn't tell you about Clark?”

“And now that I know about it, it makes total sense. I mean, a pair of glasses are barely a costume!”

Matt could have told him that, and he's never even seen Clark.

“I'm mad about you being a vigilante and not telling me sooner, but the anger about that is overshadowed because your brother is Superman!” Foggy cries.

 

Matt supposes it could have gone worse.

 

“If it helps, we're both adopted,” Matt adds. Foggy is still rolling around a bit, clutching a pillow to his chest. Matt's not sure what that's always Foggy's reaction when emotional, but he supposes it could be worse.

“Of course you're both adopted, he's an alien.”

A thought must occur to Foggy, because he sits up, discarding the pillow.

“Matt, if he's an alien... are you an alien?”

“No,” Matt assures him. “We were both adopted, but not from the same place.”

“Space?” Foggy asks.

“Well, he landed in their field, and my social worker called them.”

He thinks Foggy squints. “You sure?”

Matt nods. “I lived in New York, Hell's Kitchen to be specific, until I was ten. Dad died, I lived in an orphanage for about a month, then in Kansas until college. All that is true.”

“Except you failed to mention that two superheroes came out of that family. Do your parents know?”

“Of course they do,” Matt says defensively. “Funny story, actually. As soon as Ma saw footage of me, she knew it was me right away. Called Clark and made me come down, gave me a talking to about getting a better costume.”

“Oh good, because that other one must be shit. It looks like you just threw things together, and knowing you, that's what you did.”

Matt doesn't say anything. He also doesn't _need_ to say anything.

“What a woman,” Foggy says admirably.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees.

 

“Did you become a vigilante because of your dad?” Foggy asks after a minute. He's finished his beer and is clutching the pillow to his chest again.

“Not entirely. I mean, I always heard the sirens when I was a kid, and I knew there was crime. I just thought I'd fight it at more of an institutionalized level.”

“You do,” Foggy points out.

“I do,” Matt agrees. “But after I lost my sight, and my senses started to... I dunno, grow I guess, develop, I could hear so many more sirens. And then when I started to listen for them, it was terrifying how many there really were. And of course, my dad didn't just die, he was murdered. I spent a lot of time that month in the orphanage being angry, at God, at Dad, even at myself. I was asleep when he died,” he admits, and this is the first time he's told Foggy anything like this. “I kept thinking that if I was awake, I might have been able to stop it.”

“You were a kid,” Foggy says.

“I know. But I was grieving and alone. I'm not sure what would have happened if the social worker hadn't discovered my mother had family living in Kansas,” Matt admits. “I probably would have stayed there. Not many people want to adopt a disabled kid, especially one who's not a cute age.”

Foggy hums.

“And Kansas was... different. Quiet. Open. There was so much space, everywhere. We didn't have neighbours. I couldn't hear the nearest house. No more sirens to listen to at night. Then at eleven, my senses really started to peak. I thought things were bad before then, but everything just got worse. Thankfully, it was something Martha already had experience with,” Matt said wryly. “The same thing happened to Clark a few years earlier, so she already had experience with explaining to scared little boys how to focus their senses to block out what they didn't need.”

Foggy scoffs. “Probably thought the second kid would be easier, huh?”

“I'm not sure she ever thought that. You know, the social worker barely mentioned I was blind when she called? It was more of an afterthought, after Martha had already committed to taking me or whatever. It's not exactly how it went, but it's close enough. I think she knew very well what she was getting into.”

“Still not a space baby,” Foggy points out.

“No,” Matt agrees. “Not quite.”

 

They're both quiet for a minute until Foggy asks a question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

“Clark?” Matt asks, frowning. “You've already met him more than once.”

“No, not Clark, Superman.”

“They're the same person Foggy,” Matt points out.

Foggy waves a hand around. “Nah, it's not the same.”

Matt shrugs. “I'll see what I can do, if it'll make you happy.”

“It will,” Foggy assures him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You told him about my secret identity?” Clark sounds disapproving.

Matt ignores that part. “Yeah. And he wants to meet you as Superman.”

“You reminded him I've met him before, right?” Clark points out.

“Yup. Says it's different.”

Clark hesitates.

“Please. You know that he's my best friend, and if this is what it takes to mend the relationship, then I'll do pretty much anything.”

He's probably going to regret saying that, but it's not untrue.

Clark scoffs. “I was your best friend first,” he says.

“No, you were my brother. It's different.”

Clark is quiet for a minute.

“Okay,” he agrees. “But you owe me.”

Matt nods. “I do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clark is waiting about four feet above the ground in the living room when Matt brings Foggy home after work that Friday.

Foggy drops his bag, narrowly missing Matt's foot, and lets out an audible gasp.

He grabs at Matt's arm and shakes it. “Matty it's really him. He's here,” he says in a loud whisper.

“Of course he's here. I asked him to.”

Matt pries Foggy's fingers out of his shoulder and pushes him down the hall.

Clark hovers lower as Foggy takes a few halting steps. Matt finishes hanging his jacket up on a hook and sets his cane in the corner before coming up behind Foggy and giving him another push.

“Sit,” he tells Foggy, who seems to have forgotten how to function like a human, and heads towards the fridge.

“Beer?” Matt calls to Clark.

“The organic stuff?”

“Yeah,” Matt tells him.

Clark scoffs. “I guess.”

Matt lobs it across the room without looking, and knows that Clark catches it. Foggy apparently wasn't sure, because there's an audible gasp. If he thinks that is cool, Clark has a whole bunch more tricks up his spandex sleeve.

“Foggy?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, but don't throw it,” Foggy tells him.

Matt smirks, but hands Foggy his beer and sits down next to him with his own.

“Foggy, you remember my brother, right?” Matt prompts.

Foggy only nods.

 

“So,” Clark asks, spreading his hands out. “What do you want to know?”

“What was Matt like as a kid?”

“Really? That's what you're going for? Not something about superpowers or saving people.”

Foggy shrugs. “I figure there'll be more time for that later.”

Clark shrugs. “Sure. He was pretty cute, I guess. When he first came he hadn't hit the awkward teenage years yet. Very polite and shy. And the very first week he was there, he made my mom go to church. I don't think she'd ever been to church in her life before that.”

“Probably not,” Matt agrees. “And certainly not Catholic church.”

“He also called them Mr and Mrs Kent for like a month, and then by their first names for another year after.”

“Nothing else felt right,” Matt admits.

“Ugh,” Foggy says. “That's just sad. Tell me something fun.”

“Oh, I know. Clark can tell you about all the things that went wrong when he first learned how fast he could fly.”

“Nothing bad happened,” Clark argues. “I just scared some of the animals.”

“No, no, you actually killed one of the chicken of fright. Henrietta, remember?”

Clark waves a hand. “She was just old,” he dismisses.

“No, she was in perfect health. I know because I heard her die just before I lost my hearing for a day because you popped my eardrum. She was my favourite.”

Clark sighs. “Foggy, did you have any sibling issues like this?”

“Well, Candace melted one of my action figures once.”

“With laser vision?” Matt asks hopefully.

“No, in the microwave.”

“Close enough,” Matt sighs.

“Why, is that something that happened?”

“I couldn't prove it,” Matt says pointedly, glaring in Clark's direction.

“It wasn't me, I swear,” Clark protests. “And even if I did, that was over a decade ago. Why would I still be lying about it?”

Matt frowns. He's not lying. He's not telling the truth either. “I'll get to the bottom of The Case of Who Melted Captain America one day,” he warns.

Clark shrugs.

 

Foggy looks between the two of them. “Any other fun stories?”

“Well, there was the day Clark first realized he could fly and nearly disappeared into the sky,” Matt says cheerily.

“I was terrified,” Clark hisses.

Matt shrugs. “You were fine. You wanna tell it or can I do it?”

“I'll do it. You'll just bend the truth to make me look bad.”

Matt fakes a gasp. “I would never!”

Foggy snickers. “He would. Don't let that stop you though.”

“So there I was, at the tender young age of thirteen, when all of a sudden I was a good twenty feet off the ground and clinging to the maple tree for dear life.”

 

Clark flies Foggy home just after 2:30, when they both run out of embarrassing stories about Matt to tell each other. Matt had to endure hearing about the time Foggy picked him up from a posh suburb of Long Island after being abandoned there by Elektra, after which Clark regaled Foggy with the tale of getting dates to prom, which made Matt want to disappear into the floor.

Still, it was nice they were getting along.

 

Clark reappears shortly after that, as Matt is cleaning up the beer bottles.

“Foggy home?” Matt asks.

“Yup,” Clark says, floating down the stairs. His cape is somehow resisting gravity and seems to be held away from Clark's body by a selective breeze. Matt wonders if that's another superpower his brother has.

“Elektra left you, huh?” Clark asks.

Matt shakes his head. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

Clark is quiet for a minute as he watches Matt clean up and push some piles of papers around on the table.

 

Clark tilts his head. “I know what I want for my favour.”

“Oh really? What's that?”

“I want you to admit I wasn't the one who melted Captain America.”

“Oh come on, that's hardly fair-”

“Matt, you can hear my heartbeat,” Clark interrupts. “You know I'm not lying. I didn't do it.”

“You're an alien,” Matt grumbles. “How do I know you can't just change your heartbeat at will.”

Clark scoffs. “Right, cause I told you about everything except that.”

“Your cape doesn't obey the laws of physics,” Matt points out.

Clark winces. “Okay, no it doesn't.”

Matt throws his hands up in the air. “What else are you lying about? What is the truth Clark?”

“Matthew, I am your brother, not by blood, but I am your brother, and I loved that Captain America action figure as much as you did. I'd never melt it.”

“You didn't always have control over those laser eyes,” Matt huffs, but he knows when he's beat.

“Come on,” Clark prods. “Say it.”

“Fine. You weren't the one who melted Cap. I just wish I knew who did.”

“Pop? Ma?” Clark offers.

Matt scoffs. “Pop is awful at lying. And Ma? Get serious.”

 

They both sit down on the couch and ponder it for a minute.

“No, I've got nothing,” Clark says.

Matt sighs. “Guess it'll just be another of life's mysteries.”

Clark stands. “Guess so. Try not to get stabbed before Ma finishes your new costume, okay?”

Matt grumbles at him and waves him out. There's a faint whooshing sounds that he's sure no one else but him hears as Clark leaves the sky above his apartment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Back in Kansas, the evidence of case number 1, more colloquially known as The Case of Who Melted Captain America, is sitting safely in a box in the basement. The most prominent piece of evidence, melted Captain America himself, is packaged in a plastic bag, carefully labeled. The evidence was deemed inadmissible by the jury, which consisted of Johnathan. Despite it being Matt's very first trial, at the tender age of fourteen, he still harboured a suspicion there was more to the case than anyone was willing to share.

 

He wasn't wrong, it was just that his suspicions were directed at the wrong family member. It wasn't Clark, despite his sometimes erratic laser vision. Instead it had been Martha who'd melted Cap, during an unfortunate incident with a blow torch. She was going to tell him, but the whole thing just spiraled out of control, and she decided it was best that some things remain mysteries. She'd probably tell him someday.

 

But then, he wasn't going to tell her about being Daredevil, so maybe she'd keep that one to herself.

 

 


End file.
